Hallelujah 2
by Appreciates Fine Labrats
Summary: *Sequel to Hallelujah. Just as everything seems to be going well, Greg is put in his most perilous situation yet, when old foes and new enemies surface. Greg/OC
1. A and C

**The continuing adventures of L. J. Tibbs...oh wait, wrong show. Ahem. The continuing adventures of G. Sanders in Hallelujah 2. I'd read Hallelujah first so you know who the principal players are in our little dance. Much more angst in this one. Also I stole a line from NCIS.**

Greg slipped quietly through the halls of PD, hoping against hope that he could leave without someone giving him more work. He made it all the way to the locker room without seeing anyone, but stepping into the room he was greeted by the entire team, including Catherine. Greg sighed dejectedly, waiting for her to say something, but she shook her head, raising her arms in a non-threatening gesture.

"Nothing for you, kiddo," she smiled. "Go home to your lady, Greg."

"Still together, huh?"

Greg turned his head and gave the speaker a dark glare. "Still jealous, huh Hodges?" he snapped back.

The team coughed into their hands, grinning at the exchange that had been almost a daily constant since the night Greg had finally asked Viviane out. They'd been together for a year now, but Hodges didn't seem to be forgiving or forgetting anything.

When Greg got home he was greeted to one of his favourite sights. Viviane sat curled up on his couch, talking animatedly to someone in what he guessed was Finnish. She caught sight of him and grinned, then held up a finger. Greg smiled back and shrugged his jacket off, stepping into the kitchen to check his mail. As he flipped open one of the envelopes he heard the flow of chatter stop and a word he recognized — 'bye'.

Arms snaked around his waist and a familiar chin burrowed into his shoulder.

"Good morning, miss." Greg cocked his head to the side and gave Viviane a kiss on the cheek. "Ready for the anniversary of your dreams?"

"We're going to make love in a sugar shack?"

Greg stopped, mid-kiss, and shook his head ruefully. It may well sound like a joke, but they very rarely were with her.

"Maybe next year?" he chuckled. "Or...twenty years? I don't know if I'm ready for that kind of pressure."

He gave her a final kiss. "Who was that on the phone?"

Viviane smiled brightly. "Your favourite ATF agent. I invited him to join us for Christmas dinner."

"I don't know if I'd call him my favourite..."

Viviane let out a silvery peal of laughter. "When we were at that party with that guy from what's-it-called, you were gushing about how cool Glenn was and all the cool stuff he taught you. You were _fawning_, Greg."

Greg frowned. He couldn't deny it, so he huffed adorably and turned away. Viviane laughed in delight and grabbed his hand, pulling him to the couch. "How was work?"

"Not as good as your morning's going to be," muttered Greg as he caught her by the waist and pinned her down on the couch. He growled seductively.

"But we're going to miss our reservation!" she cried, laughing as he tickled her neck. "It's our breakfast-aversary!"

#

Waking up the next day, Greg had an instant flashback to the Christmases of his childhood. Delicious smells wafted through the apartment, and the space on one side of the bed told him Viviane was up already. He rolled out of bed and dressed quickly. She'd been preparing for the past two days for their Christmas dinner, and her apartment smelled enticingly of cinnamon (Zimsterne for Glenn, as per their tradition) and the briney sharp smell of gravlaks curing. Greg smiled as he walked into the kitchen — since Viviane had entered his life his own kitchen was no longer pristine and rarely used. They were in her apartment today, though, since Greg had nothing resembling a dining table, let alone fancy china.

"I'm going to get chunky if you keep this up," joked Greg when he came up behind her at the counter and surveyed the heaping platters set out.

She grinned at him, winking. "Glenn will be here in ten minutes."

"Did he drive all night or something?" Greg fished knives out of a drawer.

"I guess so. He said he had to work a hot case right 'til the last minute so he could only get off tonight."

"It'll be good to see him again."

Greg finished setting the table, then went to open the door as a knock signaled Glenn's arrival. He looked tired and more tense than Greg had ever seen him.

"Come in, Glenn."

Glenn nodded his thanks, stepping into the apartment and holding out a paper bag. Greg took it carefully and shook out a bottle of French wine.

"Glenn!" Viviane grabbed their arms and pulled them along to the laden table. "Come sit down."

Greg uncorked the wine as Glenn and Viviane sat down. "You look tired, Glenn," remarked Viviane as she accepted a glass of wine from Greg. "Long day?"

Glenn smiled tightly and raised his own glass towards them. "Happy anniversary, guys."

"And Merry Christmas," added Viviane.

Greg smiled around at them, finishing the circle with his own glass before settling down to eat.

#

"Ugh...I think that last piece did me in," Greg sighed contentedly, finally pushing his plate away.

Viviane smiled.

"It was amazing as always, Viv," Glenn said with a nod. Greg glanced at him in concern. He'd been unusually somber this evening.

"How's work, Glenn?" asked Greg tentatively.

"Have you been named director yet?" grinned Viviane.

Glenn made a face. "Director of a federal agency? I don't even think he wants the job. I'm not cut out for all the politics."

"What do they say?" laughed Viviane. "'Ass kissing on the hill is a skill?'"

"Working on anything in particular?" asked Greg cheerfully.

Glenn became serious, his smile falling away to reveal a deep weariness.

Greg exchanged a frightened glance with Viviane, who'd begun clearing plates. She put them down slowly, frowning. "What's wrong?"

"There's a mole in ATF," said Glenn.

"Who?" Viviane's face betrayed her shock.

Glenn opened his mouth, then closed it abruptly. "It's better if you don't know, Viv," he said finally.

Viviane's eyes flashed with indignation, but he raised his hand to silence her. His voice was firm.

"I haven't gotten to the bottom of it, and so far I only have suspicions. This goes deeper than just ATF, Viv. CIA, NSA, FBI are all in on it. I've been keeping my distance so we don't make any mistakes." Glenn looked around sternly. "The alphabet soup is converging, so I know I don't have to tell you two to keep quiet about this."

He looked up for their acquiescence, which Greg gave with an uncertain nod. He wasn't sure why Glenn was telling them all this — surely he and Viviane wouldn't be allowed in the loop on such classified info? Despite their respect, Glenn had always been a mysterious figure, not prone to talking about his work with Viviane, let alone Greg. That he was telling them now — warning them? — didn't sit well with Greg.

"You think it's the same person who kept leaking all my leads to Ruiz," said Viviane with a frown.

Glenn cocked his head. "Maybe."

Viviane resumed clearing plates in silence, eyes speculative. Greg stood up to help her. They entered the kitchen and Greg caught Glenn's expression as he followed their movements. It was grim and slightly worried, which filled Greg with unease.

#

That night, as they lay curled up, quietly listening to each other breathe, Greg stroked Viviane's arm gently. "Are you okay, Viv?"

She twisted her body towards him and buried her cheek into the crook of his neck. "I am," she said after a minute. "I'm just so fucking scared, Greg. I feel like...something could happen any minute. Something that'll take everyone away from me."

Greg squeezed her tightly. "I'm afraid of that, too, Viv."

They stayed that way for a long while, until Greg was almost asleep. A quiet voice piped up. "I love you, Greg. No matter what happens. I love you."

Her tone of voice was strangely disconcerting, but Greg squeezed her body against his tightly and murmured back. "I love you too, Viv."


	2. Attack!

It would be several months before Greg and Viviane gave a second thought to the warning Glenn had given. At the moment, Greg had something more topical on his mind. He bent over the back of the couch, giving Viviane a kiss to the cheek.

"Happy Birthday," he murmured. Viviane turned around, smiling.

"Thank you."

"Ready for your night of fun and debauchery?" Greg grinned impishly at her.

"Oh? What do you have planned?" Viviane raised her eyebrow. "We're finally going to have sex in a sugar shack?" she asked excitedly.

"Aah...maybe next year," he laughed. "I'm not going to ruin it for you. So get dressed, we have reservations."

#

Greg smiled at Viviane over the table, watching mesmerized as she ate her dessert. He was still getting used to the idea that he was allowed to see her this way, that he alone would see her later. For now he was content to watch as she licked her spoon. She made a face at him.

"Maybe we should go into business together," he grinned. "Low overhead...and all you'd have to do is eat pudding...like that."

"I don't think we have enough free time to go into the amateur food fetish video business." She laughed, then gave him a devilish grin. "But maybe for personal use..."

Greg blushed, laughing as he signaled the waiter for the check.

After dinner they walked down one of the less crowded streets just off the strip, enjoying the rare chance to take in Las Vegas at night without the thought of work.

"Where has Glenn been?" asked Greg idly. He kneaded their fingers together.

Viviane cocked her head. "Off chasing his mole, I suppose. I haven't talked to him for a while — three months since he was over for Christmas. He gets this way when he's chasing a lead."

"He kind of scared me, you know," frowned Greg. He glanced around nervously. They'd walked further down the street than he'd noticed, and something wasn't sitting right with him. He stopped and tugged on Viviane's hand to go back. She gave him a startled look, then followed him.

"What's—"

Their heads whipped around at the squeal of tyres, louder than usual in the empty street, and Greg instantly regretted their decision to stay off the Strip. A black Escalade with tinted windows screeched to a halt alongside the curb, side door thrown open. Greg's heart constricted painfully in his chest as he realized too late that his instincts had been right. Something in his brain kicked into gear and he let go of Viviane's hand, pushing her forward roughly.

"Go! Run!" he shouted, just as two figures jumped out of the SUV and grabbed him around the neck. He struggled vainly against the iron grips as a boot connected solidly with his stomach, yelling hoarsely until a cold ring touched his temple. He froze, breath hitching painfully.

"Get back here or he dies," growled one of the gunmen suddenly, coldly. Viviane froze, staring at the car where two more rifles poked out from the black insides. Greg strained against the men holding him, eyes frantically telling her to go.

"Take me," said Viviane finally in a clear voice. "Leave him. You don't want him." She raised her hands slowly, taking a step towards Greg and the men.

Greg stared in shock. "No!" The man holding him smashed the gun into Greg's temple, flooding him with nausea.

"I'll go with you, you only need me," she continued, slowly moving closer. She ignored Greg and stared intently at the man holding him by the neck.

"Let him go," she said firmly.

"How about you get in or I blow his brains out," said the man, jerking his head towards the car.

Viviane glanced at Greg sadly, an apology in her eyes as she stepped up into the back seat.

"No!" Greg shouted and kicked out at the body behind him, careless about safety. A blinding pain pierced his temple again and he fell forward with dizziness, vaguely aware that Viviane was being shoved down roughly and cracked sharply across the head with the butt of a rifle. Greg fell forward at a push from behind, landing on a scratchy surface. Before his senses could return his vision blackened as a cloth was jammed roughly over his head and tightened around his neck. He kicked weakly, but the darkness finally closed over him and he lost it.

The car door slammed shut, locking them into pitch black.


	3. What?

**I'm so sorry for the delay...**

#

Greg hissed under his breath. A pounding headache was the first thing that greeted him when he swam up through the last stages of consciousness. He muttered under his breath, wondering at the uncomfortable heat surrounding him and the strangely heavy feeling of his eyelids. Eventually he recovered enough of his senses to realize he was bound at strategic parts of his body. His arms were tied down at the wrists and legs at the ankles, bound to a chair by the feel of it. A tight band of rope held him back at the chest, restricting his breathing painfully.

After a moment of checking that everything was still attached to his body, Greg sighed, finally accepting that the night's events hadn't been an awful dream. He briefly considered keeping his eyes permanently closed, then remembered Viviane and jerked his eyes open. Too late he realized his mistake as light blinded him, sending shards of stabbing pain through his brain to compound the throbbing in his head. Sight and equilibrium came back to him agonizingly slowly and he groaned mournfully.

"Greg?" The soft voice came from behind him.

Greg turned his head as far as he could, straining until Viviane's familiar bright hair swam into view.

"Viv," he whispered in relief.

"Greg, are you okay? Are you hurt?"

He almost laughed at the absurdity of their situation. "Yeah, so far, so good," he sighed.

"Hey, it'll be okay." Viviane leaned back gently knocking her head against his. Greg leaned into her and stared at the ceiling silently.

"What do you think this is about?" he asked finally.

"Don't know. I'm here, so it can't be about a case, right? Unless..."

Greg began shifting his hands through the ropes at his wrists, trying to loosen them enough to get his hands through, but after a few minutes he only succeeded in rubbing his wrists raw.

"Unless what?" He clenched his hands against the stinging pain.

"Unless someone found out I was working DNA on a case you worked on," mused Viviane. "Or someone found out we're dating."

Greg gave up at his wrists when the stinging became too much to bear. He grimaced. His efforts seemed to have no effect on the ropes, and even so he'd still be tied at the ankles. Greg gave some thought to Viviane's theories.

"I just don't think I've worked on any cases that would give someone a motive like this. Plus those guys looked too...impersonal for a revenge motive, you know?" Greg frowned. "They looked more like...hired guns."

Viviane hissed. "These ropes are too good."

Greg nodded wearily. Their room was dusty, with concrete walls and a sandstone floor that reflected heat too well. Though diffused, the light coming through a small alcove high on the wall in front of him was bright and hot. It fell on them and made their exposed skin burn. The heat in the room was stifling, even though they seemed to be underground, and Greg was certain they were somewhere in the desert.

"How far out do you think we are?" asked Greg slowly. Talking sapped them both of needed energy.

"I don't know," murmured Viviane.

Greg found himself dozing after a while. He was feeling lightheaded and the warmth had lulled him into a stupor. A gentle rap to the head brought him back.

"Stay awake, Greg. Your head...you can't fall asleep."

"Mm...I'm up, sorry," he winced as the sudden shake of his head made him dizzy.

After another minute of nothing a low voice interrupted his thoughts. "She tied you to a kitchen chair, she broke your throne, and she cut your hair, And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah...Hallelujah..."

Greg smiled gently, closing his eyes. "Guess that's our song now, huh?"

"Guess so," smiled Viviane. "Greg..."

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry about all this...I should have been more careful."

"Why would...should you have been careful?" Greg frowned, eventually connecting the dots. "You think this has to do with Glenn's assignment."

"I just don't know," she sighed. Her voice became suddenly thick with emotion, then just as quickly firm and business-like.

"Greg, listen to me." Viviane grunted as she shifted a little. Her face was pressed into the back of his head. "Whatever happens, Greg; whatever they say, I need you to promise me something." The urgency in her voice was palpable, and the briskness scared Greg. There was no fear in her voice, just certainty of what would happen soon.

"What is it?"

"Whatever you do, whatever they do to me I need you to promise you'll do what I say. I promise everything will be fine. We'll get you out of this, but you have to do what I say."

Greg stared ahead. Tears welled up in his eyes. "You'll get...me...out of this? Don't talk like that, Viv, please."

She pressed on relentlessly. "If I tell you to be quiet, you have to do it Greg. If I tell you to run, you have to run. Don't look back, don't wait for me." She sighed. "Please, Greg, can you promise me that?"

Greg closed his eyes tightly, balking at the very thought of what she was asking him.

"Please Greg. Trust me."

"All right..."

"Promise, Greg. You'll do it even if they threaten to kill me."

"No!"

"Greg! Please!"

Greg sobbed quietly, violent images flashing through his head. He'd seen too many crime scenes; he knew what happened when someone was tortured. The thought of Viviane like that made him sick.

"Greg...We can't do this unless I know you trust me to do what's right."

"I promise to do whatever you say," he cried, straining with every fibre of his being against the ropes. He fell back, sobbing with exertion and anguish. To leave Viviane alone, to have God knows what done to her? It went against every fibre of his being.

"I love you, Greg," she said abruptly. Her voice, suddenly emotional, quavered in a way he'd never heard before.

"I love you too, Viv." He tried to make his voice as reassuring as he could.

"They're going to start talking to you, Greg. Don't believe anything they say. Remember that. Nothing they say is true...Even if it looks true, Greg. Don't believe anything! No matter what they tell you, Greg. It's not true. I love you so much."

"I know, Viv," he whispered.

"They're going to tell you things about me. Don't believe anything. It's all a trick, do you understand?"

Her tone was frightening. She sounded almost as if she knew what was going to happen, and that whatever it was wouldn't end well for her. He tried to be reassuring.

"Everything will be fine, Viv. We'll —"

"I wouldn't count on that, Mr. Sanders."

There was a startled silence, then a scream of rage erupted behind him. Viviane lunged forward as far as her restraints would allow. "Paco, you bastard! I knew you were the mole! You fucking bastard!"

Greg craned his neck around to see who'd entered the room, but just as he did, a stinging slap broke off Viviane's enraged swearing. Greg jerked around desperately as he felt Viviane tense.

"Stop it!" he roared.

"Nonsense, Greg," came the voice again; mocking in tone. No matter how Greg turned, he couldn't see the man who was talking. He must be standing in front of Viviane. "We've only just begun."

"Leave her alone!" he shouted, fighting the ropes frantically. The mocking voice laughed cruelly.

"Seems the little man wants to protect you, Viv. I didn't know you were into chicken wings now."

Viviane said nothing, but he could feel her shaking with suppressed rage.

"When Glenn finds you, you're going to wish you died in that explosion, Paco," was Viviane's eventual quiet response.

There was a tense silence, then another stinging crack. This time Greg could feel Viviane's whole body jerk to the side. She grunted in pain.

"Take her."

Greg's head was roughly jerked forward and held down. He thrashed, but the hands holding him were too strong. He cried out desperately.

"Greg! Don't say anything!" Viviane shouted before a grunt and the door clanged shut.


	4. Hindsight

Glenn walked purposefully through the front doors of the Vegas PD building and headed towards the elevators. His badge hung on the outside of his shirt, for once, and it gained him immediate access to the administrative areas of the building. He angled his way into the labyrinth of lab rooms, nodding his head to various detectives as they acknowledged him. It was the start of the night shift, he knew, so Grissom should be giving out assignments now. Passing Viviane's lab, he glanced inside, not expecting her to be there, but when his suspicions were realized, his lips tightened and his eyes flashed in anger. He quickened his pace until he came to the break room, where the team was assembled.

Glenn slipped into the room just as Grissom was finishing. Warrick and Sara left immediately, but Nick lagged behind with an interested expression. Like Greg, he was always pleased to see Glenn, who always had interesting news on the federal level. Today Glenn's eyes were stony, however, and he stood tensely as Grissom turned to address him.

"Good evening."

Glenn nodded in response. "Can I have a word with you, Grissom?"

Nick stared at Glenn silently. "Does this have anything to do with Greg and Viv calling in sick?" he asked suddenly.

Glenn looked at him sharply, then back at Grissom. "They called in sick?"

Frowning slightly, Grissom replied, "Not exactly. They both e-mailed me asking for some time off. The lab wasn't busy and they had time saved up, so I didn't give it a second thought."

Glenn crossed his arms and stared at the floor, suddenly looking lost. After a minute he looked back up at Grissom with a serious expression. "Can I have that talk now, Grissom?" he asked solemnly.

Nick stepped forward. "Look, you can't just keep us out of the loop like this. They're our team, if they're in trouble we want to know," he said angrily.

"I can't —"

"You can't keep this a secret."

Grissom pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I can't guarantee my team won't hear about this after you tell me, Glenn."

Glenn nodded, unsurprised. "This stays in the room."

They nodded gravely, and Glenn continued. "I called Viviane and Greg; they're not answering the phone."

"You've been to check on them." Grissom asked, but it wasn't really a question.

Glenn nodded. "They're gone."

"And you're sure they didn't leave on their own? Why would someone kidnap them both?" asked Nick. "Who would want them?"

"I have my suspicions," said Glenn grimly, his jaw set.

"Care to fill us in?" asked Nick stiffly. He was clearly upset that his friends were in danger, and from something it looked like they knew nothing about.

Glenn sighed and motioned for them to sit. When they sat down, Glenn shook his head ruefully. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have told them my plans. I told them what I was doing...that I was chasing something.

"There's been a mole in the Justice Department for some time. I had my suspicions on who it was for some time, and their link to ATF allowed me to help with the FBI's investigation. We had to see how far the leak went, so we kept it quiet in case he got tipped off.

"This past Christmas I told Viv and Greg about the investigation so she could be more careful, just in case," finished Glenn. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and sank into an empty chair.

"What makes you think he's the one that has them?" asked Nick.

"Because of who the mole is," sighed Glenn. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Paco...Francisco Vierres...was on Viv's team a while ago. He was very close to us... He knows who I'd talk to, and he knows who to go to for information about me. He and I had a bad falling out and I made the mistake of not sending him straight to jail. He wasn't fired then, but he should have been.

"I've been keeping my whereabouts a secret for a while now. They're the only ones I told. My cover at ATF has been holding for now, but it looks like Paco's gotten wind of the investigation, and now he's trying to get at the info they might have."

Nick frowned. He was sure they were getting a simplified version of the story, and it seemed like Glenn was still keeping something to herself.

"I need your help. Please." Glenn raised his head, hands open in supplication. "Paco's very dangerous. He won't hesitate to kill them if they don't tell him what he wants." He looked at them bleakly. "It may already be too late."

Grissom sighed and stood up. He looked over at Nick. "We can keep this under wraps for now. Tell people only what they need to know. I don't want anyone alerting the media."

Nick nodded.

"And get Archie running a trace on that e-mail. Let's recreate their last hours."

When Nick had left the room, Grissom turned back to Glenn, who was now standing by the fridge, arms crossed and deep in thought.

"I'm surprised you're not taking a more active role," said Grissom, eyebrow raised.

Glenn turned to look at him. "It's best if I'm not too conspicuous. I don't want him to know I know they're missing," he said, voice measured.

Grissom pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I think there's more to this than you're telling us, Glenn. But I trust you have a good reason to do so, so I won't ask you to tell me everything."

Glenn inclined his head. "Thank you," he said quietly.

"We'll do our best," continued Grissom. "They're our friends too."

#

They met in Archie's lab soon after. He'd been asked only to run the trace, but he was no fool. There was a tense set to their shoulders that told him everything he needed to know about the situation. He sat back, quietly waiting for Grissom. When he and Glenn stepped into the room, both wearing serious expressions that confirmed his suspicions, Archie began speaking.

"I traced the e-mail to an abandoned town in eastern Nevada," he said, showing them the tracer program. "Whoever sent the email made no attempts to hide it. It's almost as if they wanted someone to find it."

Grissom pursed his lips thoughtfully and turned to Glenn, but the room was empty. Glenn was gone.


	5. Cracked

**I'm so sorry about the delay. I've been busy with other stuff and couldn't concentrate on editing. I'd rather have it be late than sloppy, so here it is finally.**

The hands forcing his head down mercifully let go when the door slammed. Greg raised it with difficulty, breathing heavily through the constriction in his chest, and found himself looking straight into flinty eyes. He guessed that they belonged to the cold voice giving orders; the man Viviane had identified as Paco was tall and olive-skinned, with dark hair and stubble giving him the appearance of a wild man, though the eyes coldly contemplating Greg were frighteningly rational. His most distinctive feature was the extensive scarring covering the side of his face and down his neck, puckered and shiny. Greg couldn't help but stare mesmerized at the sight.

After a few minutes without a reaction, Greg tore his gaze away. His brain tried to work quickly through options, and finally settled on trying to get some information out of him. It was procedure, at least. "Why did Viv say you were a mole?" asked Greg, trying not to let his distaste show. The man made no move to answer.

"You must work for ATF," continued Greg, feigning bravado as best he could.

"Why did you leave the DNA lab, Greg?"

The sudden question caught him by surprise and he almost blurted out an answer. Viviane's face flashed in his mind. Greg shut his lips tightly.

Paco smiled tightly, mockingly. "She's gotten to you too, huh." He knelt down in front of Greg, face melting into an earnest mask; an effect that was more gruesome than reassuring. Greg's resolve faltered. If he could just know why he was here...

_Don't believe anything they say._

Viviane's voice swam through his mind, but he couldn't quite remember her instructions. His worry for her was all he could think of, and the sun's heat on him made concentrating on anything difficult.

"I used to be her partner, Greg."

Greg averted his eyes, desperately hoping Paco would just leave him alone.

_Do you understand?_

"That explosion she was talking about. She saved me from it."

Greg glanced back involuntarily. It sounded like something she would do.

"I owe her my life. I would do anything for her, Greg." The man's eyes were boring into him, dark pools he couldn't escape from.

_Do you understand?_

"What are you going to do to her?" whispered Greg.

"I don't want to do anything to her, Greg."

"Stop saying my name!" he cried, squeezing his eyes shut tightly and jerking forward as far as he could go.

"I just want to know where Glenn is."

Greg's eyes snapped open and he stared in shock at Paco.

"Glenn's gone AWOL and I need to find him. I'll treat you both with the utmost of care. I won't hurt you. But if she doesn't co-operate I'm going to have to get the information from her."

"Why do you care where Glenn is?" burst out Greg, though he knew exactly why. Paco was bending the truth. He wanted to know how close Glenn was to his cover. Greg was truthful enough with himself to know that he wouldn't be able to hold out for long if Paco tortured him — or worse yet, tortured Viviane. Oh god, what if she was tortured? Glenn was a decorated ATF agent, and a former SEAL. He could take care of himself, couldn't he? Maybe Greg should just tell Paco what he wanted to hear...

_Promise me, Greg._

Viviane's words surfaced again, hauntingly real. Greg closed his eyes, silently praying he was doing the right thing. He wouldn't say anything — he wouldn't — no matter what Paco did to him.

_Trust me. Trust me._

#

When Paco finally left the room, Greg looked around his cell as much as he could. He was still firmly tied to the chair, but he could crane his neck and see parts of the room behind him. A lump formed in his throat when he saw the empty chair. He wondered for the hundredth time if Viviane was all right.

After trying every trick he knew for untying knots, he realized it was no use. Whoever had tied these knew how to make them inescapable. It only reminded him more of Viviane. She would know how to get out of them. As it was, all he'd accomplished was to rub his wrists raw. He settled into a fitful doze, slumped forward as far as the ropes would allow.

Paco said he loved Viviane. Maybe that's what this was all about. He wanted Viviane all to himself.

The door to his right opened and he roused himself quickly.

Paco's scarred face swam into view. "Making yourself comfortable, I see." Greg wanted to rip the smug smile off his face. He settled for glaring at him.

"There's no need for that kind of attitude, Greg. I haven't hurt you, have I?"

"What do you call kidnapping us?" scowled Greg.

"Necessity. Like I said, I just need information."

"I won't tell you anything," Greg muttered, more to himself than anything. What if they gave him a truth serum? He wasn't trained to withstand torture. He was trained in chemistry, and he knew exactly which compounds would do the most damage to his mind.

"Yes, I know what Viv's coached you into doing," said Paco, clearly unfazed. Greg bristled at the familiar nickname.

"But I also know that Viv always has her own agenda, and it usually doesn't involve other people, Greg."

Paco reached around behind Greg and dragged the empty chair out. He sat down in it, leaning in almost conversationally.

"Viv and Glenn don't trust anybody, Greg. If she trusted you she'd have told you her plan."

Greg shook his head mutely. He was lying!

_Don't believe anything. Do you understand? Do you understand?_

He needed to trust Viviane. She was the only one here on his side.

"Mark my words, Greg. You'll soon find out that she's not on your side. She's on Glenn's side. She'll always put him before you."

Greg groaned in frustration. Why was Paco so good at this? He was preying on Greg's every negative thought and fear.

Paco lounged in the chair now, absently playing with his watch. He cocked his head and stared at Greg. "Didn't it bother you to find out she did all that bondage crap?"

Greg stared helplessly at the floor, willing the man's voice to just go away.

"It bothered me. Maybe that's why we broke up."

Paco's voice was dry, dispassionate, but it struck daggers into Greg's heart.

"That and I could never deal with sharing her with other guys. It's always the smartest ones that are the biggest sluts."

"She's not a slut!" roared Greg, snapping his face up and struggling vainly against the ropes. Paco barely flinched. His expression was pitying, and it made Greg even angrier. "Fuck you! I'll never tell you anything! And neither will she!"

Paco continued as if Greg's outburst hadn't even registered.

"She was good, I'll tell you that. She'd do anything to complete a mission. In retrospect, it probably wasn't a good idea to date someone you work with," Paco sighed. "There's nothing quite like hearing your girlfriend fucking some dirty drug dealer on the other side of a hidden mic."

Greg shut his eyes tightly, leaning forward until the pain from the ropes biting into his flesh obscured his hearing. He cried out mutely, shaking his head against the man's words.

_I love you. Do you trust me?_


	6. Finally

He couldn't tell how long he'd been alone. Paco had left some time ago with that same pitying expression on his face, but his voice still haunted Greg. What should he believe? Everything he'd been told was jumbled in his mind until he couldn't remember who'd said what.

Greg blinked sluggishly. The air inside his prison was musty and lulled him into a stupor easily. He was roused by the door opening once more. He guessed they must have been in this hell for at least half a day.

"How are we doing, Greg?" That voice again. Greg shook his head wearily. Well, somehow he'd held out, all this time, and he wasn't about to give in now.

"Leave me alone," he whispered weakly.

"I've come to offer you something to drink, Greg," said Paco, as usual ignoring anything Greg said. "All you have to do is watch something."

"Let us go," repeated Greg, staring him down with dull eyes. Paco ignored him and placed the other chair directly in front of Greg, then sat a handheld camcorder down on the chair seat, so the screen was tilted up towards Greg's face. The camera flickered on to an image of Viviane, and Greg cried out in anguish.

She sat tied to a chair very similar to his, but her head slumped forward, limp. She was naked down to her undergarments, and her exposed skin was a mass of bruises and open cuts. Greg's eyes welled up with tears as an arm appeared from off-screen and grabbed her by the hair, yanking her head backwards. Her face was a bloody mess. It looked like her nose was broken and blood ran from both nostrils. Her eyes were black and swollen, matching her jaw and cheeks. Blood dripped from her mouth, staining her chin and neck, and her eyes were lidded. They fluttered only briefly when a crushing blow landed on her face.

Greg cried out, begging for it to stop. An unrecognizable voice yelled out from the background in the video. "Tell me the truth!"

Viviane shook her head weakly. Greg felt a surge of pride, which quickly turned into a moan of fear when the same arm reached out from the surrounding space slowly waving a long thin piece of metal. The video played inexorably, but he couldn't look away. Were they doing this for Glenn? He didn't care about Glenn! He just wanted Viviane to be safe.

"We don't have to do this, Viviane. Just tell me the truth."

Viviane threw her head back and said nothing. Her eyes were hard with hatred.

"Tell me the truth!" A buzzing filled the air as the prod was thrust into her stomach, jerking her body off the chair. She screamed, head snapping up to the ceiling, and Greg cried out with her, desperately trying to look away, but a rough hand grabbed him by the hair and forced his head back. Viviane slumped over once more, shoulders heaving with tremors. She swayed slightly. The same buzzing sound filled the air, and she was jerked up again, her scream even louder.

"The truth!"

Greg sobbed silently, tears trickling down his face to land in his lap as Viviane screamed again. Finally she seemed to reach her last reserves of energy and her scream turned into a keening wail, then a gurgling moan. The prod was inexorable, however, and a shout broke through the screams.

"Agh! I don't! I don't love him! I never did!" Harsh sobbing filled the room and the buzzing finally stopped. Greg stared in shock at the camera, but Viviane's face was turned down, matted hair hanging limply over her head.

Paco stopped the tape silently and left with the camcorder, leaving Greg alone as tears tracked their way down his face. He stared into empty space for a long time, replaying her words in his head.

#

"Since you insist on being stubborn, Greg, we're going to have to try things a little differently from now on."

Greg barely looked up. He'd been sitting in the same stupor since Paco had shown him the tape. The stifling air in the room made thinking clearly almost impossible. He'd been given water regularly since the video, but still no food. He guessed he'd been alone for a few more hours, but there was no way of knowing. Hunger pangs interrupted his brooding every so often.

The ropes around his arms loosened all of a sudden and he fell forward limply, barely reacting in time to catch himself from crashing face-first into the floor. He blinked slowly and looked up at Paco standing over him.

"If you're not going to do it the easy way, we'll have to try the hard way, Greg."

"Stop saying my name," whispered Greg, burying his forehead in the cement floor.

Suddenly he felt a crushing blow to his back that knocked the wind out of him. He wheezed and brought his arm up in defense, but Paco kicked him forcefully in the ribs, sending him rolling away.

"Please stop it," he moaned in between the savage kicks. This was so much worse than the beating. Those had been kids — Paco knew exactly how to use his strength to inflict the most damage. The long time sitting in a chair had made him weak, and Greg could only curl in on himself.

"Done so soon, Greg?"

He groaned loudly, feeling a rib snap despite his attempts to protect his chest. The kicks stopped and Greg lay panting on the floor, twitching with lingering pain. Paco leaned in close and spoke into Greg's ear.

"Tell me about Glenn."

Greg said nothing, though all that he'd learned gave him the inclination to say everything out of sheer vindictiveness. But he lay still, eyes dull. To give in to Paco was just as bad.

Paco stood up and left the room silently. Greg prayed it was over, but he merely returned several minutes later and leaned in close to his ear again. Greg hissed in anger and frustration.

"I wouldn't be so angry with her, Greg. I don't think you understand how painful it is. I'll show you."

He brought the familiar metal stick out from behind his back and dangled its pronged end beside Greg's head. Greg recoiled from the object, but Paco grabbed his hands in a vice-like grip and quickly tied them together. He jerked his body away frantically, but a booted foot slammed into Greg's chest and pushed him down to the ground. Greg cried out as his broken rib crunched under the pressure.

Paco loomed over Greg, inching the prod ever closer.

"Don't be angry with her."

A blinding pain coursed through Greg's body and he screamed, body flailing against the ground. "See? I don't blame her."

Paco's voice reached above Greg's harsh breathing, inexorable and cold.

"Tell me."

Another shock. Greg screamed louder this time. His insides felt as if they were shriveling up.

"Tell me everything!"

This time Paco pressed the prod deeper into Greg's skin, sending an ear-splitting shriek out of Greg's mouth. Something snapped inside him. He no longer cared about anything. Love, betrayal, he only cared about making the pain stop.

"No! He knows everything! He's following you," Greg screamed and sobbed at the same time. "He knows everything!"

The prod withdrew and Paco's black boots shifted away. "I don't know what she ever saw in you. Viviane held out for six hours."

With a final look at Greg, Paco left the room.

Greg let his head fall back to the cement, sobbing brokenly as tremors racked his body. His mind reeled from what he'd just done. He'd betrayed Viviane, Glenn, himself. He'd given Paco everything he wanted. Hot tears worked their way down his face, mixing with the sweat and grime from his prison. After a minute when he was sure there was no one coming back he raised his head with difficulty and looked around. The room was unchanged. He still couldn't see any way out.Greg groaned and lowered his head, curling up and cradling his aching ribs as best he could. He lay there, skin tingling with leftover energy.

Paco's last words haunted him, leaving a cancerous feeling of worthlessness eating away at his failing strength. He barely reacted when the door swung open again and Paco's familiar, detestable boots swam into view.

"I'm in a generous mood today, Greg," Paco's voice floated down from above. "I'll let you two lovebirds spend your last moments together."

Greg's heart flitted in his chest as he was lifted bodily by a hand on the back of his shirt. He kicked his feet weakly, but he couldn't muster the strength to make any real fight and he was carried down a hallway, then through another doorway. Greg cried out as he was dropped unceremoniously; his knees and head hitting the floor painfully. The boots walked away and a door shut with a clang.

Greg lay sprawled on the ground for a few minutes, trying to collect his remaining strength. He had to breathe shallowly so his chest wouldn't hurt, but finally he was able to struggle up to his elbows. This room was almost identical to his. A small window near the ceiling provided meagre light, and Greg moaned when he saw a hunched form in a chair exactly like his own. At some point his hands had been freed, so he braced his palms on the ground and gathered his legs underneath him. Hissing with pain, he raised himself and took a few shaky steps towards the chair in the middle of the room.

"Viv," he said quietly. "Viv? Are you awake?"

He reached Viviane's slumped form and fell to one knee beside it, frowning when she didn't respond to his gentle touch to her shoulder. Something was off here, but his fuzzy brain couldn't make the connection. He ran his finger down her cheek and cupped her chin, raising it slowly. She was clearly unconscious, but what he saw there in her face shocked him so badly that he stumbled backwards and fell to the ground. Covering his face with his hands, he sobbed brokenly.

"No..No...NO!" he shouted the denial to the room, banging his fist against the floor in despair. He cried out again, fresh tears clouding his eyes every time he glanced at Viviane's limp body.


	7. Exposition

The pain in his chest was excruciating, but Greg crawled over to the chair once more, heart heavy with regret. He explored the knots holding her tight and found them easy to untie from behind. He gently eased Viviane to the floor, shedding more tears as he inhaled the lingering scent of her hair. She looked so peaceful, unaware of the betrayal he'd committed. He cradled her in his arms and lowered her into his lap as he leaned against the chair leg and brushed hair from her face. He wanted to be sure, to see again what he'd seen before, but it was there, just as before. In the video her face had been cut in many places; a deep bloody gash going from temple to chin. Her face was pristine, except for a few fading bruises. She was as he had last seen her. Greg lowered his face, pressing their lips together and resting his forehead against hers. The position was agony to his ribs, but he stubbornly endured it.

"I'm so sorry, Viv," he whispered, tears falling again. He stayed that way, gently cradling her body and rocking back and forth, until a low moan came from her lips. He pulled away hesitantly. Her face was contorted in a grimace of pain and her moaning became louder. Greg supported her shoulders as she thrashed around, until with a gasp her eyes flew open.

"Aah.."

"Ssh," Greg held her tightly, despite his protesting ribs. "It's all right Viv, you're okay."

She stopped thrashing and blinked up at him. "My arms," she cried.

"You're just getting back your circulation," he whispered, rubbing them gently. She bit her lip as the burning began to spread, and her arms twitched involuntarily. Greg continued rubbing them until she was able to lie still. He held her closely.

"Greg," she muttered, reaching up and touching his face as if she couldn't believe it was actually him. "I'm so sorry for all this. It's all my fault."

"No, it's not —"

She shook her head and pulled herself up, tears glinting in her eyes. "No, Greg. I knew this would happen when Glenn told us what he was doing. I should have been more careful," She clutched his arm tightly. "This is all my fault. It's all a trap!"

Greg stared at her wild eyes, pieces finally coming together in his head. And he'd helped. "I told him...I told him Glenn was onto him," he admitted.

Viviane pulled at his shirt desperately. "They're going to kill Glenn," she sobbed into his shoulder. "They're going to kill him! Glenn, no!"

#

Greg woke from a fitful nap. The little light in their room had been falling on them for a while and was making him perspire heavily. He licked his dry lips, but it did little to help. He slowly untangled his arms from Viviane's body and lowered her to rest on the ground. With the movement she woke with a small gasp, looking around in alarm.

"Shh, it's just me," said Greg, smiling wryly.

"Oh, Greg," she murmured.

"I'm sorry, Viv," blurted Greg, unable to bear the guilt anymore. "I told him everything. I...I promised you and I betrayed you." He forced himself to stare into her eyes.

Viviane smiled back at him gently and reached up, caressing his cheek.

"Greg, I know I made you promise — but I never should have. When Paco puts his mind to it, he knows how to get information."

"I couldn't...couldn't stand the thought of them hurting you."

"I know. I'd think less of you if you did," she smiled. "Don't beat yourself up, Greg. I'm sure Paco already knew about Glenn, he just wanted to confirm it." Viviane hesitated. "How did he...?"

"They showed me...He showed me.." Greg swallowed thickly. "He showed me a tape."

Viviane passed a hand wearily over her eyes. "What kind of tape?"

Greg stared at her unhappily. "You were being interrogated...they shocked you...then you said..."

"That I never loved him," finished Viviane with a sigh.

"I'm so sorry Viv...I should have known," cried Greg. She shook her head.

"You couldn't have known, Greg. Paco's very good at what he does — he learned from the best. If he wanted to make it look like I said that, he'd make sure it looked like that."

Greg buried his face in his hands. "But I made you a promise..."

Viviane sat up quickly, grasping his hands. "Don't do this, Greg! You didn't know. It's not your fault!"

Greg stared into her eyes. They were pained, but kind. He bit his lip and nodded. Viviane smiled and squeezed his hand.

"You gonna help me look around this place? If I know Paco, he's got the whole place rigged to explode."

Greg scowled. "Peachy."

#

Glenn drove on autopilot. His eyes were far away as he gripped the wheel and maneuvered his car in and out of traffic with a speed that verged on the reckless. When he judged he'd gone far enough, he pulled into the parking lot of a convenience store and got out. He bought a pack of gum and a prepaid phone, tapping the counter idly while the cashier rang his credit card, though the purchase would cost less than the surcharge. He exited the store quickly and made his way down the street away from his car, surveying the area grimly as he walked. He flipped the gum and his ringing cell phone into a garbage can as he walked past. By the time Brass had tracked down his car and purchases to the convenience store, Glenn was well out of the city.

#

"SOP is to blow it up, keeps evidence to a minimum," explained Viviane as she explored the outer corners of their room. "Paco won't take any chances. Even if Glenn doesn't show, he'll blow this place just to get rid of us." She bent down and dug at a corner of the mortar.

Greg watched her, marveling at the ease and calm she exuded. He knew her better than that, of course; know that she'd let her guard down only when the situation was resolved. Still, her demeanor eased his nerves considerably.

"What happened between you guys?" he asked, going over to the door and beginning to knock around its edges.

Viviane paused and sat down, resting her head against the wall. The heat was making sweat bead on their foreheads, and dust stuck to everything. Greg walked over and slid down the wall beside her.

"Paco...Francisco Reyes...he was in Glenn's SEAL unit. They graduated together..." Viviane trailed off, a faraway look in her eyes. Suddenly, she snorted and gave Greg a wry look. "Glenn kept Paco from ringing out. If it wasn't for him Paco would never have made it."

She snorted again. "Best friends for life, right? Anyways," she sighed. "Glenn found out Paco was skimming money from the black op accounts. He got off, but..."

"So that's why Glenn seemed so sad," whispered Greg. He held his breath. "And the...video?"

Viviane buried her face in her hands for a few minutes, breathing deeply. Greg wanted desperately to comfort her, but something held him back. Not until he knew everything...

Her face appeared, teary eyed. "I was pretending to be Paco's wife for an op in Sierra Leone when our cover was blown. They never believed it...they broke me just to pay us back."

The horror with which she said her last words tore through Greg's heart and he wordlessly enfolded her into his arms. Her wet face buried in his neck and she shook with silent tears.

"I can't even imagine..."

She pulled away and wiped her eyes with the corner of her shirt. "Let's hope you never have to," she smiled sadly.

They sat side by side, resting against the wall.

"Well if there are explosives, they're not in here," said Greg eventually.

Viviane nodded. "But they'll be out there," she jerked her chin towards the hallway.

"Which only leaves..."

They both stared at the small opening high above them on the opposite wall. It obviously led to a window based on a feeble but bright light that filtered through to the floor. They were both thinking that it might be just wide enough to get one of them through at a time, but the difficulty would be getting someone up there. The window enclosure was higher than their heads.

"We'll just have to try it," sighed Viviane. "Got nothing to lose, huh? Paco is sure we'll die here or he'd never have left us together."

Her bleak assessment of their fate left Greg cold, but he shrugged it off. He'd have to be the cheerful one then. Grabbing her hand, he pushed himself up from the wall and pulled her up with him. He smiled tightly and gave her a sound kiss on the lips.

"Let's not sign our death warrants yet, huh?" he grinned.

Viviane stared at him before nodding quickly. "I'm sorry, you're right. I got —"

Greg nodded encouragingly before taking a step to the only piece of furniture available to them.

"We can use this."


	8. Collateral

Glenn surveyed the house with lidded eyes. It was the only one with signs of having recently been lived in. A new black SUV stood in the driveway looking very out of place in the dusty desert. It was a trap, he knew. A perfect bulls eye to lure him in, if he were so rash. He'd so far come unmarked, trekking outback style through the surrounding area from where he'd left his stolen car. He now huddled under a small outcropping of prickly bushes on a steep hillside to the north of the house. Three men had come in and out at various times, and he could easily have gone in after them, but Glenn was patient, and Glenn was mad. He kept watching, hitching the binoculars higher on the bridge of his nose and fishing the prepaid phone out of his pocket.

#

Brass cursed under his breath after reaching his fifth dial tone. Glenn obviously wasn't used to, or didn't want to, follow procedure, and without knowing everything Glenn did, Brass could only follow blindly. It was a position Brass disliked even more than being lied to. Still, he trusted Glenn's judgment enough to know he wouldn't spring into action like this unless the threat was serious. Now he had two missing personnel and a federal agent who was certainly heading into a trap. Brass cursed again and dialed a new number.

Twenty minutes out into the Nevada desert and Brass was beginning to regret his decision to trust Glenn when his phone rang shrilly.

"Brass."

"Turn your sirens off when you get here."

"Glenn! What are you doing? Where the hell are you?"

"Right where he wants me to be. If you have to, make your arrival in one hour. I'm two klicks north of the 80 at Elko."

At the abrupt dial tone, Brass growled and slammed the phone down. This was getting ridiculous. And yet, there was nothing he could do but follow Glenn's lead if it meant getting Greg and Viviane back safely. A Medevac was following him in the air as per his phone call, though he hoped there would be no need. Who was he kidding, though? Large sections of Paco's file were blanked out, and Brass had a very good idea what that meant. His wishes were far-fetched at best.

#

Glenn hung up on Brass and dialed a new number, a number he knew by heart.

"Hi Glenn..."

Glenn did some quick thinking. He trusted his skills enough to be sure no one had seen him coming through the desert, which meant Paco still thought he was back in Vegas — but Paco obviously knew Glenn had broken his cover. Greg or Viviane must have talked. Glenn swung his binoculars around the valley until he found the man in question. Paco was hidden in a spot almost parallel to Glenn, on the other side of the valley. He had a perfect view of the house, as did Glenn, no doubt wanting to watch the spectacle. Knowing Paco, it would probably be explosives. Glenn's lips set in a hard line as he carefully marked his target.

"Hello Paco."

"How are you holding up? I heard the news, terrible thing..."

"Cut the crap, Paco. What do you want?"

"Just the joy of your presence, Glenn. A little reunion, if you will. We have some unfinished business, you and I. I still have to pay you back for that stunt with the AUSA."

"If you'd just stayed out of the bankroll, you wouldn't be so close to getting screwed, P."

"Shut up. I know you've been tracking me."

"And I know you've been communicating with Ruiz in jail. For that I _will_ hunt you down and grace you with my presence."

Paco's face tightened in fear, and Glenn's eyes narrowed dangerously. It had been a hunch that still needed to be checked up on, but Paco's reaction confirmed it beyond a doubt. Ruiz had probably provided the manpower and resources. Glenn raised his binoculars once more and stared across the divide at Paco.

"So that's how it's going to end?" he asked sadly. "You're going to kill Viv?"

"She made her choice a long time ago," spat Paco.

"Viv never picked me over you," said Glenn. "She chose between right and wrong. Something you should never have asked her to do."

"Then I'll enjoy killing her little boy first," came Paco's gleeful sneer.

Glenn's voice hardened. "For whatever we might've done to you, Paco, we might deserve this...but if you hurt Greg you'll fry eternally."

"I always knew you two were sick. What do you do, share him between the two of you? He kinda looks like a twink, but I expected more from ladies' man Glenn."

Glenn smiled, scanning the horizon for signs of the other men, but they were still safely inside the house. "How long has it been, Paco? You're getting clumsy."

There was a silence on the other end as Paco tried to make sense of Glenn's enigmatic answer, then a smirk as he obviously thought Glenn was just bluffing. "Thought you'd want to see something."

A quiet bloop sounded in Glenn's ear and he looked down at his phone. A grainy photo appeared showing Viviane and Greg tied to chairs, slumped forward in fatigue or injury. Glenn ignored it and hunkered down farther into the bushes. He set the binoculars down and reached for the item tucked by his side. It glinted coldly in the afternoon sun as Glenn set it up, careful to keep his movements slow.

"Trying to taunt me, Paco? Didn't I teach you anything? This isn't a movie, Paco, and you're not a very good villain. No one gains from that except...those at the disadvantage."

Glenn ran his fingers down the hot metal he was holding.

"Don't flatter yourself. I've gotten far ahead of you on my own. I just wanted you to see your little sister and fuck buddy for the last time."

Glenn squinted carefully through the scope, focusing straight at Paco's smirking face. He didn't have a dead man's switch, which would make this much easier.

"That's always been the difference between you and me, Paco. You're concerned with show and tell," explained Glenn grimly, "and I'm just concerned with getting...the job..._done_."

A muffled shot rang out, swiftly getting lost in the vast expanse of desert air. A body slumped forward, forehead pressed into the ground at his feet and reddening the soil. Glenn quickly ejected the cartridge, turning to face the hostage house.

Paco's accomplices had made the mistake of rushing out.

Glenn pulled the shrub protecting him farther over his head and took aim. The first man out went down first, his startled friend running for cover at the sight of the body suddenly going limp and keeling over. He crouched behind the car in the driveway, gun out and eyeing his friend's dead body. Blood cooked out on the hot pavement. The second man took a chance and peeked out over the hood of the car, but the hills around all looked the same, and with the echoing landscape it was virtually impossible to tell where the shot had come from. The man licked his lips nervously and eyed the front door. Could he make it safely?

Glenn's finger teased the trigger, patiently waiting as sweat trickled down his forehead. He blinked it away.

The second man made the dash suddenly, but he wasn't fast enough. He was pinned against the front door before toppling backwards onto the hot driveway, face stuck in an expression of surprise as his blood leaked out into the gutter.

#

"What do you see?"

Greg craned his neck to see out the grimy window. He was balanced cautiously on the chair back as Viviane held it steady, one arm on the window ledge holding him up. The walls were thick and the window recessed, so Greg could see only a fraction of the outside, being unable to press his face right up to the glass.

"Looks like a driveway," he called down to Viviane. "Goes down to a dirt road and empty desert."

"Can we get through there?"

"Barely," he muttered. He tensed suddenly and ducked his head back out of sight as feet rushed by his little vantage point.

"People are running out," he whispered. "They're — oh shit!"

"What?"

"One of them just...he's dead. He just...fell down," whispered Greg.

"Yes!"

Greg turned back in surprise.

Viviane crowed in triumph, ignoring her injuries and hopping on one foot. "It's Glenn! He's here."

A crash from behind brought their attention snapping back to the room. The door slammed open, revealing a huge man wielding a Glock. Viviane sprang into action, grabbing the chair supporting Greg and throwing it at the man. She dove to the side as he narrowly ducked the chair and fired a volley of shots at her. The chair splintered against the side of the door frame as Viviane used the distraction to throw herself at the guard. Greg dropped down from the window ledge and just managed to roll himself to the side as a fresh round of bullets hit the wall where he'd just been.

A final bang sounded and a pained shout filled the room.


	9. Heroes

Glenn clambered down the steep slope, sliding over clumps of rock and heedless of cover. His eyes stayed glued to the small window at the very base of the house, where he'd seen a flash of something he was sure was gunfire. He heard another sound in the distance and smiled in satisfaction. Brass was finally coming with the cavalry. Glenn reached the valley floor and paused, making sure there was no returning fire and ran to the house's half-open front door. He slung his rifle over one shoulder and brought up his sidearm, poking the door open cautiously. One man, obviously the smarter of the three Paco had left in charge, hadn't come out with the others. Glenn knew there was a very real possibility he didn't have time for caution; that Paco could have left instructions to blow the place up if he didn't contact them. Still, he couldn't run in without knowing more information.

#

Greg jerked his head back up from where he'd ducked at the gunshot and took in their situation with one glance. Viviane was sprawled on the floor, head hanging and leg red with blood, but the guard had been effectively distracted by her attack and Greg took the opportunity instinctively. Jumping up, he grabbed the first thing he touched — one of the chair legs — and swung at the man's head with all the strength he could muster. He was weak from the long hours without food, but seeing Viviane's blood on the floor gave him an extra boost of power. The man went down like an ox. Panting heavily, Greg gripped the leg and stared at the door. When no one came he threw it aside and rushed to Viviane, who was struggling to her feet. He caught her under the arm and supported her weight.

"You okay?" he asked.

She nodded, biting her lip as her leg was jostled.

"We need to stop the bleeding," he muttered.

Viviane shook her head, wincing. "No! If those guys are dead...the bomb could go off at any time!" She cried out a little as she tried to step forward.

"Lean on me," said Greg. He shifted his weight and took a better hold of her. Viviane breathed deeply and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"Close the door and stay quiet," she whispered. "We don't know if there are more of them."

"But we have to get out..."

"We can't risk it," grunted Viviane. "We'll have to use the window."

Greg reached out and reluctantly shut the door, then hastily bent down to pick up the guard's gun as an afterthought. He stared up at the small window hole, despairing at ever being able to get Viviane through it.

"Hurry," she gasped, shuffling towards the window as she tore a strip of her shirt off. They reached the other side of the room and he let her lean against the wall.

"Help me with this," she muttered, pressing the strip of cloth to his hand.

"What are you doing?" Greg stared. Viviane looked up at him in confusion.

"This will take some of the sting out of the glass." She ducked her head down quickly and busied herself with the cloth.

Greg stopped her firmly and pushed it back. "Not funny, Viv. We gotta get you out first...your leg."

Viviane bit her lip as her leg gave a sympathetic twinge.

"I'm not hurt. Well, not much," he patted his aching ribs.

"Go." Greg wrapped the fabric around her hand as she made a tight fist and looked up. He grabbed her and lifted, slinging her arm around his shoulder. The jostling was too much for her, apparently, and she became dead weight in his arms.

"Come on, Viv, don't do this to me," he wheezed. Gripping her tightly around the waist he shimmied her up against the wall.

"Viv! Wake up!" he begged. At his cries she came around finally and grabbed at the window sill, then threw an elbow over and began helping him pull. Greg tried not to touch her injured leg, but it hung limply in front of him and he couldn't help but nudge it. She hissed unconsciously.

"Are you close?" he grunted as her weight rested on one shoulder.

"Almost..."

He heard a silvery crash, then the sound of glass being cleared.

"Are you okay?" he called up.

"Fine," she gasped. He glanced over his shoulder at the still-locked door.

Viviane pushed against him; straining to get her body weight up through the narrow opening. Greg leveraged her a tiny bit more and was met with an agonized groan; he froze immediately.

"No," she gasped. "It's fine. I'm almost...there..."

Greg summoned a last burst of energy and thrust up against her leg, ignoring her drawn-out pained groan, until finally her legs and feet kicked out and disappeared.

#

Glenn pushed the door open with one hand, gun raised and pointed inside, when he heard breaking glass behind him. Whipping around, he ducked his head inside quickly before stepping back and coming around to the front of the house. Screeching tyres and sirens were almost upon them. Glenn waved the police cars back and they stopped in a wide semi-circle, Brass hopping out as soon as they stopped.

"Glenn!"

"Stay back," shouted Glenn as he turned back to the house. A bloodied hand emerged from a small basement window, trying to find purchase on the cracked earth. A head followed and Glenn breathed in relief when Viviane's unmistakeable hair came into sight. He ran over and caught her shoulders, pulling her out quickly into his arms.

"Glenn?" Viviane blinked up at him in confusion.

"Shh, it's okay," muttered Glenn as he took stock of her bloody leg and shredded clothing. He gathered her up in one motion and ran towards the parked squad cars.

"No! Greg's still in there!" she cried, struggling vainly in his arms.

"I know Viv," he answered firmly as he handed her off to a waiting medic and turned back to the house.

"Wait! Be careful!" Viviane stared after him fearfully. Smiling and winking, Glenn turned and ran back into the house, ignoring Brass' shouts to stay back.

Viviane sobbed brokenly into her hands as she realized belatedly the choice Glenn had made for her.


	10. Fade to Black

Viviane's leg slipped out of Greg's hands and he fell back groaning against the wall with fatigue. He could vaguely make out shouting from outside and the now unmistakeable sound of sirens. He'd been too stressed out before to hear them, but now he sagged against the wall in relief. He craned his neck up again to see how impossibly high the window was for him alone to reach. The sounds of commotion grew louder, but he couldn't make out exactly what was being said. His ribs were starting to make themselves heard again.

Suddenly he had an idea that might work, if he was incredibly lucky. Gathering himself with a tight breath, he straightened and made his way to the guard. He tied the man's arms in front of his body and dragged him under the window sill, then propped him up with his back against the wall. Greg was surprised the man was still out, but he must have hit him much harder than he'd realized.

"Guess there's no choice but to try it," he muttered in distaste. He propped one foot on the man's shoulder and pressed down hard, trying to get as much leverage as he could. Once he'd managed to keep the man from toppling over, he made a lunge and reached desperately for the window sill. After a few tries, he managed to catch a corner with the tips of his fingers.

Scrambling desperately he stomped all over the man's head and shoulders to keep his balance until finally he rested, panting, both arms struggling with the agony of keeping himself hanging. With a groan, he pulled himself higher, getting an elbow over. The push with his legs had sent the guard toppling over, and Greg found himself stranded against the wall. Kicking at the unyielding cement, he strained with all his might to pull his body up, but the pain from his ribs was nearly making him pass out and he could make no purchase. His other elbow managed to catch the sill, but his arms and shoulders were quickly losing the strength to hold him up. Tears stung his eyes every time he struggled, and a strong headache was beginning to form from the strain. Greg redoubled his efforts, but it was no use. His shoulders gave way with a sudden sharp pop, and he fell back with a cry. His feet hit the ground and he felt his knees crack with the force.

Greg lay panting on the hot cement. Only the thought of Viviane kept him from staying down and letting the bomb do its job. Groaning, he sat up and struggled to his feet. It might not be safe, but going through the house was his only chance. Greg walked on unsteady feet to the heavy iron door and shouldered it open, glancing warily down the short hallway. There was only one other door there; probably where he'd been kept before, and a staircase leading up at the end of the hallway. Throwing caution to the wind, Greg ran down the hallway and up the stairs. He paused at the door to the rest of the house, then pushed it open quickly.

#

Glenn burst through the front door, all need for caution gone. He took a few steps into the main part of the house and found himself in the hastily abandoned living room. Just as he'd feared, there were stacks of C4 in all four corners, wired to a central controller which had already been activated. One glance at the ticking numbers — 25 seconds — made his pulse race. A door in the wall behind him burst open suddenly and he brought his gun up instinctively, then dropped it just as quickly.

"Greg!"

Greg almost sobbed with relief at Glenn's familiar presence, at least until he saw the device Glenn was standing next to. A wave of terror froze him in his tracks and he stared numbly at Glenn.

"Go!" shouted Glenn, snapping him out of his stupor. Greg hesitated, but Glenn ran up to him and grabbed his arm, pulling him out the front door. It was only then that Greg registered what the device had been blinking — 20 seconds and counting down. Panic slowed his movements and he stumbled over the front step. He glanced over at Glenn, whose face was set and was pulling on his arm forcefully.

"Glenn—"

Glenn glanced over his shoulder and his face tightened; he grabbed Greg around the waist and heaved him forward. Not expecting the sudden change, Greg cried out, but Glenn was far behind him by now and yelling for him to run. Instinct propelled Greg forward into the circle of police cars, just as a great roaring caught up with him. A scorching wall of heat enveloped him as the shock of the blast sent him tumbling down. He rolled under the car nearest him, covering his head as glass and debris pelted his body. Greg stared back at the house and groaned as the last of the explosion rumbled overhead. A scream broke through his deafened ears and Greg looked up to see Viviane struggling with a medic.

"Glenn!" Viviane shrieked in agony and fought her way through the circle of officers. "Glenn!"

"No! Viv!"

Greg scrambled up from the ground and managed to get in her way.

"No...Glenn..." She went limp in his arms, sobbing hysterically. He could hardly understand her babbling. "Greg, you're okay..." she clutched him tightly, tear-stained eyes seeking out his face.

"Go with the medics," he said hoarsely, making sure his body was blocking her view of the house.

She shook her head vehemently, then groaned as dizziness assaulted her.

Greg turned his head quickly. Through the choking dust he could see that the house was almost entirely obliterated, leaving a smoldering heap of concrete foundations.

Viviane sobbed and tried to stumble past Greg, but he grabbed her and pulled her back into his embrace. She struggled against him, hitting his chest vainly, but he wrapped his arms around her tightly and held her shaking body.

"You can't Viv, it's not safe," he cried, heart breaking at her pleading sobs. Greg stared over her shaking head at the damage, seeing the paramedics working on a limp bundle on the ground, just metres away from the wreckage of the house. The ground around the flurry of activity was littered with debris and fires. He squeezed his eyes shut, bile rising as he realized he'd be right there under that debris if Glenn hadn't pushed him out of the way. His flood of guilty relief was making him almost as sick as the sight of the body being transferred to a stretcher. The ringing in his ears was replaced by shouts from the paramedics, and he was jerked out of his daze by Brass.

"Greg!" Brass' voice penetrated the fog. "The Medevac is leaving! You two get on it!"

Greg glanced down at Viviane in his arms. She was in no state of mind to understand what was going on around her and she stumbled blindly when he moved. He remembered her leg and wondered how she'd managed to stay up this long. Brass was already ahead of them, so he bent down and swung Viviane off her feet, carefully cradling her legs behind the knees. He grunted as sore muscles protested, then hurried after Brass.

**Hey, guys. Well, this is as far as I have written down, so I'm taking a little break from this fic until I can decide how I want this to end. I can't decide if I should kill Glenn or not? I'd be interested to hear what you think.**

**In the meantime, I'll be posting a new fic called Victimology that has the whole team and is much darker and angstier than this one. It has no romance at all. So look for that very soon, and I hope I'll have an answer for this story just as soon as one visits me in the night.**


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